


(buried my love) in the moondust

by orphan_account



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Bad Decisions, Best Friends, Drift Compatibility, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Pining, Practice Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 22:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13727397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: i buried my love to give the world to you





	(buried my love) in the moondust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shibecafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shibecafe/gifts).



> a gift for ben, as everything i write is  
> subtitle: local writer leaves her comfort zone and writes fic for a fandom she's never written for before
> 
> a brief explanation of terms  
>  **kaiju** \- a race of amphibious genetically modified weapons of biological warfare, who enter the world through a fault line in the pacific and wreak havoc  
>  **jaeger** \- mobile weaponry consisting of one giant robot manned by two pilots, also known as rangers  
>  **the drift** \- a mind meld that two jaeger pilots undergo prior to synchronizing with the jaeger itself, necessary in order for the pilot's brain not to be overloaded by controlling a jaeger alone; essentially leads to them sharing one "headspace", with all thoughts and feelings shared with it  
>  **drift compatibility** \- how well two pilots can work together as two sides of one being  
>  **chasing the rabbit** \- latching onto a single memory and losing control of the jaeger
> 
> title and description are both from jaymes young's [moondust](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xs8aAaO7OFU)

“They’ve found you a partner,” Dongwoo tells Sunggyu, beaming expectantly. 

Sunggyu doesn’t smile back. Last time he heard those words, last time he’d entered the Conn-Pod, it had almost been his last moments on earth. It’s the last thing he wants, not so soon after he’d recovered from his injuries since the last time he was in a Jaeger.

“What was wrong with Minseok?” he asks, still half asleep, making his way down the corridor without any real idea where he was going.

Dongwoo shakes his head. “Sunggyu. He chased the rabbit, you know that. He’s the reason Blue Control got destroyed; we couldn’t keep a pilot with such insufficient control of his emotions.”

Sunggyu doesn’t need a reminder. That day six months ago, in the left brain of the Jaeger, he’d been utterly terrified, already close to passing out when he entered the Drift. And he remembers Minseok in the right brain latching onto a memory, remembers the headspace collapsing, remembers nothing entering his mind but images of Minseok as a child.

The Kaiju had struck them down. There was no way to come back from that—not for Sunggyu, not for Minseok, and not for the Jaeger. Later, Howon would tell Sunggyu that they’d got backup from the Tokyo Shatterdome, but it was still humiliating—a total blow. He’d decided then and there, in his hospital bed, that he wanted to quit. He didn’t want to pilot a Jaeger ever again.

It was just a shame, then, that he’d never gotten around to handing in his resignation.

Now, in the present, he shakes his head. “I don’t want to go through this again.”

“You finished recovering three months ago, I think it’s enough time. Besides, the algorithm is certain,” Dongwoo says. He steps in front of Sunggyu, blocking his way and offering another expectant gesture. “Aren’t you going to ask for his name?”

Sunggyu sighs. “You’re going to tell me anyway,” he says. “Even though it probably breaks about fifty protocols, and I’m certain once you get a real job in mission control it will definitely lead to nepotism.”

Dongwoo grins. “Nam Woohyun.”

“Nam Woohyun?” Sunggyu asks. “But he hasn’t been training for long enough.” He decides to steadily ignore the fact that Woohyun had beaten him in combat the last time they’d gone hand to hand. 

“He has potential, though,” Dongwoo says. “Everyone can see it. More potential than the other cadets here. He beat you, I hear.”

Sunggyu shrugs. “Why are they partnering him with me, though? I don’t think we have _anything_ in common.”

“Nam is unpredictable,” Dongwoo replies. “Fightmaster Lee called him the Jaeger Program’s wild card. I’ve watched him fight, and he knows how to fight—but he doesn’t know how to _win_.”

“And I’m the textbook fighter, huh,” Sunggyu says. 

“Precisely,” Dongwoo says. “You’re dependable, but a bit of a boring fighter. You’ll balance each other out when you’re facing a Kaiju, I’m sure of it.”

Sunggyu shakes his head. “Right. So can you let me through so I can go get told this by somebody with actual authority?”

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Just as he’d expected (from experience, of course) they’d faced Fightmaster Lee, and were told that they were now co-pilots. 

Then they’d been led onto the wide, open space where the Jaegers were kept, nothing but open sea on the horizon. “There she is,” Fightmaster Lee tells them. “Infinite Duty. She just got transferred here from the Sydney Shatterdome.”

“Wow,” Woohyun says, his eyes wide. 

“You’re going to have to pilot it,” Fightmaster Lee continues. “Just for fifteen minutes. Sometimes the algorithm is wrong—it would be better to figure that before rather than after we need you to fight a Kaiju.”

“Pilot it?” Woohyun asks. “Algorithm, wrong? What?”

“People can seem drift compatible,” Sunggyu says. “But even though they can spar well, and match each other’s movements, they can’t enter the Headspace. Lack of trust, or embarrassment about their own memories, or whatever.”

“Good thing I have no shame,” Woohyun says, grinning. Sunggyu isn’t sure if he’s joking, but he doesn’t welcome the kidding. “Is that what happened to you?”

“No,” Sunggyu replies curtly. He’d known that the details of his accident were known across the Shatterdome, but he hadn’t expected Woohyun to be so frank about it either. “That was because the pressure of having to fight a Kaiju was too much. My co-pilot latched onto a memory and lost control of the Jaeger.”

“Right,” Woohyun says. Sunggyu gets a good look at him as they enter the Conn-Pod, and sees beneath the cocky grin, the affected bravado. He sees that Woohyun is _scared_. And he can tell, then and there, that Woohyun wants this—wants to be here, wants to command this Jaeger. That he wants to fight Kaiju. He sees the boyish innocence underneath the bravado, the determination, and most of all the hope.

When they’re in the Jaeger, Sunggyu in the right and Woohyun in the left, Sunggyu isn’t sure what he’s expecting. The Drift is different for every person, he knows—he doesn’t expect the same sensation as the last time he entered it. Not with someone like Woohyun.

But Woohyun in the Drift, Sunggyu slowly realizes, is something different to how he is out of it—driven, straightforward, and above all, determined. Sunggyu tries to figure out something about Woohyun more than what he already knows, something about his background or personality or anything, but Woohyun refuses to focus on his memories. All Sunggyu can gather is the _feelings_ —the resolve, the willpower, and that same hope he’d seen earlier. 

Thinking now after leaving the Jaeger, with a wide-eyed Woohyun at his side, he makes a promise to himself. He doesn’t know why, but right then and there, he tells himself that he’ll never be the one to kill that hope.

-

Woohyun is woken up from his sleep by Sunggyu shaking him and an alarm going off. “Hey,” he says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What’s the time?”

“Three in the morning,” Sunggyu says. “There’s been a Kaiju in this area. They want us to take it out.”

“Category?” Woohyun asks, a bit faster now, getting out of bed and beginning to get dressed. 

“Only a II, as far as I know,” Sunggyu responds. He turns away from Woohyun. “Keep your head straight when we start to fight it.”

It was their first time being sent on one of these missions, and Woohyun wasn’t sure if he was excited or _completely terrified_. But he tried to keep his fear down, tried to focus on what had to happen. Kaiju. Jaeger. Fight. Prevent thousands of lives from being lost.

By the time they make it to the Jaeger and connect with LOCCENT, about fifteen minutes have passed since Sunggyu woke Woohyun. He hears the voice of someone at mission control in his ear. “It’s gotten a lot more dangerous than we thought. We’ve tracked two Kaiju coming out of the Rim in the last hour.”

“Two?” Woohyun asks. The Jaeger begins to move. 

“Both Category II, of course. We’ve dispatched two other Jaegers to set out from other Shatterdomes in this part, so you won’t be dealing with them alone.”

Sunggyu audibly sighs. “Great.”

“We’ll be here for backup if you need it. But we all have faith in you both. Don’t hesitate to call backup if it’s necessary. Nobody will look down on you for it.”

And then Woohyun feels it again—the voice in his head, that definitely wasn’t his, speaking to him. It’s disorienting, to be in the Headspace, to share his thoughts and ideas with Sunggyu without ever having to speak a word. 

“Like hell am I calling backup,” said Sunggyu-in-his-head.

Woohyun laughs internally. “Ready to kick Kaiju ass?” he asks, amazed at how just thinking it feels like talking, at how he talks without moving his mouth. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sunggyu says.

-

February 2019. It had been three months since Sunggyu and Woohyun became co-pilots, and two months since they had almost single-handedly taken out two Category II Kaiju.

If Sunggyu had ever wanted to be famous—which he didn’t—he sure was getting that now. In between headlines like _Nam Woohyun and Kim Sunggyu take on another Kaiju_ , there were the _Ah, f*ck, Nam Woohyun really is handsome_ and the _10 Times Nam Woohyun and Kim Sunggyu Were Too Cute To Handle_. They’d appeared on the _Mickey Mouse Club_ as guest stars. Word was on the street that the 2019 Korean President’s Medal of Honour was to be awarded to them both.

The part where he saves lives, though—that almost makes it worth it. Sunggyu had never considered himself a particularly selfless person, but perhaps this was just Woohyun rubbing off on him, his characteristic determination remaining in Sunggyu’s head even when they were no longer linked in the Drift.

Right then, they’re both occupying the space they share, quietly enjoying each other’s company; Sunggyu reading an article about cryptocurrency on his phone, Woohyun staring at the ceiling. It’s nice. And it’s silent, until Woohyun asks, “Sunggyu? Why did you join the Jaeger Program?”

It’s a question Sunggyu has no real answer to. Months ago, before Woohyun, he would’ve said he never wanted to be a ranger. He would have far preferred a mundane desk job, or something humane—not fighting sea monsters in a giant robot. He would have told Woohyun about how his father had been one of the main engineers of the Jaeger, how he’d died when a Kaiju attacked his workplace in Hong Kong, how his family had encouraged Sunggyu to enter the program as a tribute to his father because _our Sunggyu really is clever, isn’t he_?

But Sunggyu hesitates this time, because Woohyun already knows all of this. He knows who Sunggyu’s father was, he knows that Sunggyu had planned to quit after Minseok, he knows that this wasn’t his choice—so that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. And then it clicks into place as Sunggyu realizes Woohyun is asking why he stayed.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I suppose I just never got around to leaving, and then by the time I had the time to leave I just didn’t want to.”

“Why?” Woohyun asks. 

Sunggyu thinks back to that first day, when he’d felt the hope from Woohyun’s brain, and answers, “I guess I just realized I wanted to do this. Realized I wanted to give people a life, even if it meant sacrificing mine.”

Woohyun tuts. “That’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to do something you hate because it’ll save lives.”

“I don’t hate it,” Sunggyu responds. “I don’t care for the idea of it, but everything feels different in the Drift.” Everything feels different when Sunggyu can feel Woohyun’s emotions, the opposite of his own, flowing into his brain. “What about you? What made you join the Jaeger Program?”

Woohyun sighs. “A man told me once,” he begins, and Sunggyu listens in anticipation, “that girls really like men who can protect them.” Sunggyu bursts out laughing. “So I figured, what’s more protective than saving the entire Far East from murderous sea monsters?”

Sunggyu shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, turning around so he’s lying on his side and looking at him. “What’s the real reason?” He’s tried to figure this out, but Woohyun is a remarkably focused pilot, and he rarely seems to think about his past when he’s in the Drift. What little Sunggyu has seen doesn’t show a story—just fragmented anecdotes.

Woohyun sighs again, stretching out his limbs as if he’s preparing himself for a fight. “My dad left when I was little,” he says abruptly, and the sudden frankness catches Sunggyu off guard for a second. But then again, Sunggyu has realized that this blunt honesty is nothing new when it comes to Woohyun. “My mom was an alcoholic. I dropped out of high school when I was fourteen, and I was in and out of home trying to make some money.”

“You can drop out at fourteen?” Sunggyu asks. 

“It was more like I just went _fuck it_ and decided I wasn’t going to come anymore,” Woohyun says. Sunggyu laughs. “Anyway. So I fell in with the wrong kind of crowd, so to speak, and I was pretty much running around Seoul doing jobs for some gang leader by the time I was like, fifteen.” Sunggyu does the math quickly in his head, remembering that Woohyun is only seventeen now, two years younger than Sunggyu himself. He thinks back to Sunggyu at fifteen, a glowering teenager who hadn’t yet grown into his body, and wonders how Woohyun had managed to get himself into the mafia before he could even legally drive. 

“And then?” he asks.

Woohyun grins. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’m getting there,” he says. “When I was…sixteen, a few weeks before I turned seventeen, I pickpocketed a guy because my superiors told me to. He caught me, but only because he got every shop in Seoul to refuse to accept his credit card, and then came after me, and punched me in the face. Fucking Fightmaster Lee.”

Sunggyu blinks. “You pickpocketed Fightmaster Lee.”

“Yes, and he didn’t even notice until he went to a convenience store and discovered he didn’t have his wallet,” Woohyun says. “It’s my greatest achievement.”

Sunggyu shakes his head. “Nam Woohyun, you’re insane.”

“In my defense, I didn’t know who he was until he told me,” Woohyun responds, holding his hands up in surrender. “So when he punched me, he knocked me over, and then once I recovered I punched back, and then he didn’t hit back because he saw I was a kid. And then he was like, who is this kid who has the nerve to punch a guy _after_ he almost knocks him out.”

“To be fair, I’d wonder the same thing too,” Sunggyu says. “You have balls, Woohyun. Or perhaps you’re just dumb.”

Woohyun grins at the sarcastic compliment. Sunggyu will never understand how Woohyun can be so satisfied with that kind of backhanded validation, but God knows he takes it with pride. “So I was like, I’m Nam Woohyun and I’m not scared of cowards who like to beat up teenagers, and he sat me down and told me he was the Fightmaster of the Hong Kong Shatterdome and that got me pretty shocked because I always thought the Jaegers were pretty damn cool. And I managed to get a punch in against a guy who literally trains the pilot, so that was nice.”

Sunggyu rolls his eyes. “You and your need for validation.”

“Fuck off, Sunggyu, I don’t see you going around sparring with head officials of the Jaeger Program,” Woohyun says. “Anyway, so then he asked me who I worked for, so I told him the gang’s name, and he asked if I could give names so I said no, and then he said that I’m quick and smart and tough and they need people like me in the Jaeger Program. So he told me if I sell out my gang members, he’ll enter me into the training.”

“And you sold them out?” 

“I sold them out and never looked back,” Woohyun says. “Because now I’m here, and I fight Kaiju, and that’s a hell of a lot cooler than running errands for some druglord.”

“And you have me,” Sunggyu says. He’s not sure what compels him to say it, only that he’s certain more than ever that if there’s anything keeping him in the Jaeger Program, it’s Nam Woohyun.

“And I have you,” Woohyun responds. “You know, I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you?”

“Well, you kind of have to trust me,” Sunggyu points out. “We share each other’s headspace on a regular basis.”

“It’s not about that, though,” Woohyun says. He studies Sunggyu thoughtfully, making him feel as if Woohyun could see right through him, as if he can read him just as well as he can when their minds are melded. “I grew up in a rough neighbourhood, I was in a gang at fifteen, I never really _had_ anyone I could really trust. But you’re different.” He turns away, facing the ceiling again, and Sunggyu takes that to mean their conversation is over, so he picks up his phone to continue reading the article.

“You’re my best friend, Kim Sunggyu,” Woohyun adds after a minute, surprising Sunggyu, snapping him out of the article.

And he realizes that he shares the sentiment, even though they aren’t the same, because Sunggyu has always had friends in his life but never someone like Woohyun. “And you’re mine, Nam Woohyun.”

-

Months pass.

Woohyun starts to talk to people more. When he’d first joined the Jaeger Program, he’d been quiet, rarely talking to the other cadets—preferring instead to pay quiet attention, learning from their mistakes, pushed by that ravenous determination in him. Or maybe it was fear. Looking back, it’s hard to tell the difference.

But now it’s different. He talks to the other cadets, gets to know them. Myungsoo and Sungyeol, whose only worries seem to be if they’ll be drift compatible with each other. Sungjong, who’s not even a cadet but a strike trooper, and yet spends more time around the training facilities than the other cadets. Jiyeon, who’s ridiculously quiet but apparently managed to beat Sungyeol in a fight once. And Mijoo, who, Woohyun gathers, is like Sunggyu—in this for other people, not herself. 

Woohyun soon realizes something about that sparks interest—not when it’s Sunggyu, because Sunggyu is _Sunggyu_ , but in this case, perhaps it’s different.

They’re in a hotel room in Seoul, attending some ceremony, because journalists are certain they’re a prime bet for winning whatever Presidential award was being awarded, and it wasn’t like they had anything important to do or something. Sunggyu stands in front of Woohyun, wrapping strands the thin silk of Woohyun over each other as he’s done a million times before because Woohyun doesn’t know how to do it himself. 

“I don’t understand the necessity of a tie,” he tells Sunggyu when he’s done tying it, watching as Sunggyu tightens it against Woohyun’s collar as if he doesn’t know it’ll be loose by the end of the ceremony. As if Woohyun doesn’t know how to do that part himself, at the very least.

“It makes you look like you care,” Sunggyu responds. “Stop complaining, it suits you.” 

Woohyun grins. “Ah yes, those old journalist ladies will be all over me. Thank you, Sunggyu, for making my life worth living.”

Sunggyu shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Woohyun turns to the mirror, ignoring the comment. “Do I actually look good?” he asks. When Woohyun sees himself like this, wearing a shirt and tie, dressed formally, he can’t help but feel like he looks like a kid playing dress-up. It’s not like Sunggyu, who manages to pull it off, looking older and more responsible than Woohyun could ever manage. 

“You look fine,” Sunggyu says. “Stop overthinking it, since when were you ever trying to impress someone?”

Woohyun shrugs, grabbing his suit jacket and wrapping it around his shoulders. “There’s kind of a girl.”

“Only kind of a girl?” Sunggyu asks. “So she’s half girl and half Kaiju?”

“Absolutely,” Woohyun deadpans. 

“Always knew you had some weird kinks, Woohyun. Don’t worry, I won’t shame you if I see Kaiju porn in your browser history.”

Woohyun shakes his head. “You’re an asshole. Also, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t exist.”

“You would know,” Sunggyu says. “Go on, though. Who is she?”

“A cadet,” Woohyun says. “She’s nice. Reminds me of you.”

“Is this your way of saying that if I was a girl you’d date me?” Sunggyu says. “I’m flattered.”

“Shut up, she’s better looking than you,” Woohyun says. “The girl version of you wouldn’t be that hot.” (It’s a blatant lie. If Woohyun was into guys, he’d probably be into Sunggyu, or at least Sunggyu’s face.) “Anyway. It’s not like it’s going anywhere, because I’m not going to ask her out.”

Sunggyu, tying his own tie, gives Woohyun an odd look that he can’t figure out. “How come?”

“I’ve never dated anyone,” Woohyun says. “You forget, I dropped out just around the time my testosterone was starting to kick in. I never really had the chance to date, what with being the slave of a gang.”

“Huh,” Sunggyu says. “You seem like you would’ve.” Woohyun shrugs. He doesn’t quite understand the comment, but is flattered by the implication that Sunggyu has thought about him in terms of how he’d be as a boyfriend. (He isn’t weirded out by it. That’s the type of person Sunggyu is—he considers all variables, even the ones that don’t necessarily make a difference. And Woohyun supposes whatever relationship he gets into later has to work with Sunggyu, because being in the Drift with someone kind of means having a third person in all your relationships.) 

“I’ve never even kissed a girl,” Woohyun confesses. “I don’t get the appeal. I was kind of hoping she’d make a move so I wouldn’t have to.”

“I’ve dated,” Sunggyu says. “But only when I was younger. Once I joined the Jaeger Program, I decided I was going to focus on succeeding and let the dating come after that.”

“Workaholic,” Woohyun comments. 

“You should, though,” Sunggyu continues, giving Woohyun the smile tinged with fondness, the one that gives Woohyun a little boost every time he sees it. (He supposes it’s the same feeling as getting validation from an older brother would feel.) “Ask her out. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

Woohyun laughs. “I already said. I don’t know how I’d go about it. What happens if she expects me to kiss her, and I don’t because I don’t know how, and then she’s like _nah fuck you I won’t date you anymore_?” Sunggyu rolls his eyes, grabbing his own jacket and checking the time. And that’s when an idea forms in Woohyun’s head, considering the variables, realizing that Sunggyu is the only person who knows about Woohyun’s lack of dating experience because Sunggyu is the only person Woohyun would tell. “Sunggyu. You’ve kissed people before, right?”

“I have,” Sunggyu responds. 

Woohyun hums. “Show me how to do it, then.”

Sunggyu blinks. “What?” And then, “Are you asking me to let you practice kissing on me?”

“ _Sunggyu_ ,” Woohyun says. “I’m only asking you because I know you’ll be cool about it. It’s not like you could secretly be in love with me, because I’d know if you were.”

Sunggyu shakes his head. “Alright,” he says, laughing. “I’ll do it. We’ve got a few minutes to spare before the driver will show up, anyway.”

“Wha—” Woohyun begins, not expecting it to be that easy, but his word is cut off as he finds Sunggyu’s mouth against his. Sunggyu’s arm around his waist. Sunggyu’s body in his personal space, physically closer than they’ve ever been before. 

_I don’t get the appeal_ , Woohyun thinks, remembering his words from earlier. He gets it now. Sunggyu is a _man_ , and Woohyun is certain he doesn’t like men and definitely doesn’t like Sunggyu, but if it feels this good with him then Woohyun is sure he understands now why couples seemed to spend all their time attached at the lip.

His hands move to Sunggyu’s hair automatically. Sunggyu hums in assent, pushing Woohyun slightly so his back is against the wall before pulling apart, blinking. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”

_Don’t stop_ , Woohyun thinks before he can stop himself. Because this didn’t mean anything—it was just a kiss. With his best friend. So if it felt good, why stop? “Why are you sorry?”

Sunggyu blinks. “We aren’t actually making out,” he says rationally. “You’re just practicing. I don’t want to go too far.”

Woohyun grabs hold of Sunggyu’s tie. “All the more practice won’t hurt,” he says, the lowness of his voice surprising him. So Sunggyu presses forward again, pushing Woohyun against the hard wall, coaxing his mouth open, until his phone rings in his back pocket and they realize they’ve kissed for ten minutes, and that the driver is downstairs waiting for them, and that Sunggyu missed his phone vibrating with text notifications.

Sunggyu flushes, smooths down his hair, tightens his tie, purses his unnaturally swollen lips. Woohyun can’t read his face. “You’re something else, Nam Woohyun.”

“In a good way?” Woohyun asks.

Sunggyu shrugs. “I’m not sure yet.”

-

Things have changed.

It’s been a year since Woohyun and Sunggyu became co-pilots, and Sunggyu has never experienced this warmth in his gut before. But now he’s feeling it all the time—when Woohyun smiles at him, when Woohyun’s shoulder brushes against his, when Woohyun links arms with him as they walk somewhere.

He refuses to think about it, though. Thinking about something puts it there, in his mind, where it could resurface any time. Thinking about it meant Woohyun could find out. Still, Sunggyu had noticed himself that he’d started to focus on memories of Woohyun when he was in the Drift, putting two and two together, realizing that Woohyun gives him strength.

He’s thinking about Woohyun now, sitting in his room quietly, when his phone  
buzzes. It’s Woohyun. _finally asked mijoo out_ , the message says, and Sunggyu smiles at it. Because he can imagine Woohyun, nervous but hopeful, asking her in one of the rare moments where he was shy and quiet. 

But at the same time there’s something in his stomach, catching him off-guard. He’s happy for Woohyun. He really is.

He needs a drink.

Sunggyu wasn’t a drinker, but he’d tried it at work parties a couple times, hating the taste but liking the way it dulls his thoughts. _You think too hard_ , Woohyun’s voice in his head tells him. _I get why you need something to slow you down_. (Sunggyu wills it away. He doesn’t want to think about Woohyun right now.)

He enters a pub, not one that looks particularly pleasant but one that’ll do, and orders a pint of beer, hating the bitter way it went down his throat, feeling like an indiscretion. This isn’t what getting drunk is supposed to feel like, Sunggyu is sure—it’s not meant to feel like he’s doing something wrong. (Woohyun hated drinking. He told Sunggyu it gave him bad memories.) 

He orders another drink when he finishes the first one, praying that nobody recognizes him, because what kind of headline was that? _Loved and honoured Jaeger pilot Kim Sunggyu gets trashed in a dingy Hong Kong pub_. He can picture it, not stopping the bitterness that comes with the idea, glad for the distraction from why he was really here. 

He drinks another. And a fourth. He’s starting to lose control of his thoughts now, but instead of it being helpful all he can think of is _Woohyun, Woohyun, Woohyun_. Woohyun’s smile, Woohyun’s eyes, Woohyun’s mouth. And he can’t help his mind from revisiting the one memory Sunggyu has repressed to oblivion, the thing he refuses to allow himself to remember.

Another one.

He’s losing consciousness now, and when he calls for the bartender the man shakes his head. “No way,” he says. “No more drinks for you.”

“Come on,” Sunggyu says. Or rather, tries to say—his voice slurs more than he expects it to. He can think the words, but he can’t say them. “I haven’t been here for long.”

“Three hours,” the bartender says. “You’re drunk. I won’t serve you another.” He taps on the bar. “Open your phone and call your emergency contact.”

Sunggyu tries, and realizes his phone is dead. “No,” he says. Woohyun couldn’t know, anyway. _I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you_ , says Woohyun in his head. But what about now, he thinks. Would Woohyun still trust him knowing he was here, drinking far much more than he should far too early in the evening?

The bartender shakes his head. “You’ll never get home this drunk,” he says, taking out his own phone. “I’ll call a cab.”

Sunggyu shakes his head, imagines telling a taxi driver that he lives at the Shatterdome. “No,” he says. “Just call him.”

The bartender understands. “Do you know the number?”

Sunggyu swallows. Even drunk, he has Woohyun’s phone number memorized, the numbers bored into his memory, and he recites them monotonously, watches the bartender dial them and call. 

Woohyun picks up after three rings. “Hello,” the bartender says. “I’ve got someone here, at my pub, and he said this was his emergency contact. Err—what did you say your name was?” 

This was to Sunggyu. “Sunggyu,” he answers.

“Sunggyu,” the bartender says. “I’ll share the location with you. Thank you.” He hangs up and turns to Sunggyu. “He’s on his way.”

“I’ll wait outside,” Sunggyu says, counting out the money and pushing it across the table before leaving. 

The night is cold, much colder than it was inside the pub, and Sunggyu’s t-shirt feels uncharacteristically thin all of a sudden. He shivers, standing against the wall, his head swimming, and he’s not sure how long he’s been standing there when he sees the headlights of a car coming closer and pulling to a stop.

The back door opens and Woohyun steps out. Sunggyu knows it’s him. He’d know Woohyun anywhere. “Sunggyu,” he says, and his voice sounds strangled, desparate. “Sunggyu, are you alright?”

“’M fine,” Sunggyu says. “I’m okay, Woohyun.”

Woohyun steps forward and wraps his arms around Sunggyu. “You disappeared,” he says. “I thought something had happened. You didn’t answer your phone.”

“It died,” Sunggyu says. 

Woohyun hugs him tighter. “Don’t do that to me again, Sunggyu.”

Sunggyu buries his head in Woohyun’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled by Woohyun’s shirt. He doesn’t know when he started crying but like this, with Woohyun holding him, he sobs. 

“I forgive you,” Woohyun says. “Don’t cry, Gyu.” He kisses his forehead, running his fingers through his hair. “Why did you come here?”

“Don’t know,” Sunggyu says. “I don’t remember.” Woohyun moves his head off his shoulder, gazing at him more tenderly than Sunggyu has ever seen him look, and he blurts out on impulse, “I love you, Woohyun.”

Woohyun smiles. “I love you too, Sunggyu. You’re my best friend. Why wouldn’t I love you?” He pulls him in for another hug. “Don’t leave again, okay? Stay with me.”

Sunggyu smiles into his hair and decides not to clarify.

-

Woohyn stumbles out of the Jaeger station and punches Sunggyu in the face.

It catches him off-guard, and he stumbles back, holding his face, but doesn’t make any attempt to defend himself when Woohyun readies for another one. That’s what stops him—when they’ve fought before, Sunggyu has always fought back.

“You’re not defending yourself?” he asks, and it comes out cold, bitter. “You’re just going to let me hit you?”

Sunggyu hangs his head. “I lied to you,” he says. “I deserve it.”

Woohyun replays the events in his head—the Kaiju going down, the burst of happiness from Sunggyu that slowly disappeared, the way Sunggyu’s head had entered a totally different memory altogether—of Sunggyu in the bar, thinking about Woohyun, and not in a platonic way, either. And Woohyun isn’t _angry_ , but he’s upset—because Sunggyu has never told him that, and Woohyun thought they told each other anything. 

“You did,” Woohyun says. “You never told me you have feelings for me.” 

Sunggyu raises his hands. “I deserve it,” he says. “Hit me again if you want to.”

Woohyun lowers his fists. “I don’t want to hit you,” he says. “I just want to know why you didn’t tell me.”

Sunggyu sighs. “The modesty reflex is considered antithetical to creating a connection,” he says, quoting an article he’d read a while ago. “PPDC psychologists suggest that embarrassment based on sexual memory is the biggest reason algorithm pilots become out of sync.” He gazes at Woohyun softly. “And if we lose sync, Woohyun, we can’t co-pilot anymore. I’d have to resign.”

“You don’t want to resign?” Woohyun asks. “But I thought—I thought you didn’t like being a pilot.”

Sunggyu steps forward. “After our first mission together, when I was in the Drift, I felt you were hopeful. I felt your determination. I told myself I didn’t want to be the reason you couldn’t have that anymore.”

“I’d give it up,” Woohyun says. “I’d give up everything for you.” He’s never thought about it before, but he knows it’s true. 

“I know,” Sunggyu says. “But I don’t want you to.” He steps forward again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. The feelings. They’re not—not serious ones. I’m not in love with you or anything like that. But it’s just…a crush.”

Woohyun swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Sunggyu shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal, I swear,” he says. “I’ll live.”

Woohyun steps forward. “You’re sure you’re fine?” he asks, telling himself it’s fine. Sunggyu is always responsible, he reminds himself. If it wasn’t fine, Sunggyu would do something.

“Absolutely,” Sunggyu says. “I’m sorry for lying to you, Woohyun.”

-

Sunggyu is sitting on his bed, reading, when the door slams open and Woohyun walks in, looking—looking a way that Sunggyu doesn’t understand. He can feel strong emotions, but he can’t place it—it’s not anything Woohyun has ever had towards Sunggyu.

“Hey,” he says, standing up to greet him almost too politely, almost too formally. “What’s the matter?”

Woohyun steps forward. “Mijoo dumped me.”

So it was anger? Sunggyu had seen Woohyun angry before, and he knew it didn’t look like this. “I’m sorry,” he says, unsure of what else to say. “Are you alright?”

“Aren’t you going to ask why?” Woohyun asks.

Sunggyu swallows. “Why?”

“She said,” Woohyun begins, “that she didn’t want to have a serious relationship with me knowing that she’ll never be the most important person in my life. She didn’t want to date someone already in love with someone else.”

Sunggyu steps back. “What do—”

“At first I was confused,” Woohyun says. “I mean, as far as I knew, I wasn’t in love with anyone. But then I thought about it, and I realized she’s right. She’ll never be the most important person in my life, because there was someone before her.”

“What do you mean?” Sunggyu asks. 

“Haven’t you got it yet?” Woohyun asks. And underneath _this_ , this passion that Sunggyu can’t name, he sees the Woohyun he knows: the boyish innocence underneath the bravado, the determination, and the hope. “I’ve known him since I was seventeen. He’s my best friend. I’ve kissed him.”

Sunggyu swallows. “I thought you were straight,” he blurts out.

“I don’t know what I am,” Woohyun says. “I just know that I’m in love with you.”

Sunggyu bites his lip. “Don’t say things like that because you pity me—”

Woohyun cuts him off. “I’m not pitying you.” He takes another step forward. “Howon in mission control told me you asked him if you should resign. Are you going to?”

Sunggyu wants to have an answer—he doesn’t even know what to say regardless, but even if he did, he couldn’t say it. His throat has gone dry. “I—I don’t know.”

Woohyun steps forward. There’s almost no distance between them. Woohyun could kiss Sunggyu right then, could do _anything_ to Sunggyu, and he’d let him. He closes his eyes. “Don’t leave,” Woohyun says. “Stay. Stay with me.”

Sunggyu opens his eyes and tries to speak, but nothing comes out. So he answers another way—stepping forward and kissing Woohyun on the mouth, doing what he’s wanted to do again since that day all those months ago. 

An hour later, lying next to each other, exhausted but content, Sunggyu’s fingers in Woohyun’s hair, he says it again. “Don’t leave. Stay with me.”

“Anything,” Sunggyu says. “Anything for you.”

-

In the Drift, Woohyun and Sunggyu become one.

They think as one, even when they share their thoughts, even when they disagree. And that’s why they both feel the shock when Dongwoo tells them the Kaiju is worse than they expected.

“It’s not a Category II,” he says hurriedly, panicked. “It’s a Category III at least. We’ve called for backup, but they might be a while.”

“So we have to take it on ourself?” Sunggyu asks aloud, his voice strained. The monster is in view now, dangerously close to the Japanese coastline, and Woohyun has to avert his eyes. Neither of them like looking at Kaiju. 

“Do as much as you can,” Dongwoo says.

In the Headspace, Sunggyu says, “Woohyun?”

“Is this going to be our last time?” Woohyun asks. Because he’s considered this before, considered going out against a Kaiju, and now he’s here and he’s _terrified_. He doesn’t want to die. Not now, not when he has Sunggyu, not when he’s not alone for the first time in his life.

The battle with the Kaiju had gotten worse in the last few months. A Jaeger had been completely destroyed in Alaska. The Kaiju analysts had noted trends, noted that the Kaiju now seemed to know just how to fight back against the Jaeger.

“Stop it,” Sunggyu says, and Woohyun remembers he can hear his thoughts. “Stop thinking about how the Kaiju might beat us. We’ll get through it. We’ve always gotten through it before.”

“I love you,” Woohyun tells him.

“I love you too,” Sunggyu says. “Ready to kick lizard ass?”

“Sunggyu?” Woohyun says as they move towards the Kaiju. “If we survive this, I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be with you.” He laughs. “We could go somewhere as far away from the Pacific as we can get, and just…”

“You want to settle with me?” Sunggyu asks. “Nam Woohyun, the Jaeger Program’s wild card, wants to settle down?” But the warmth is there, the motivation, something to keep them both going. “Okay. Now let’s do this.”

-

“Infinite Duty is down,” Howon tells Dongwoo, voice quivering. For the first time, Dongwoo hears how badly this affects Howon, and he does a double take at the tone in his voice before he even processes what was said. “I repeat, Infinite Duty is down.”

“Infinite Duty?” Dongwoo asks. “Nam and Kim? _Sunggyu and Woohyun_?” He immediately moves to the controls, desperately trying to get a connection from their individual headsets. “Please. Please answer.”

The buzz runs around fast, though. The pride of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. The Jaeger that had taken out countless Kaiju. Sunggyu and Woohyun, Woohyun and Sunggyu—they couldn’t not be around. 

A headset crackles from somewhere else in mission control—it’s Jiae, the lieutenant of the Jumphawk pilots. “Dongwoo?” she asks, using his first name—that wasn’t something anyone ever did when they were in mission control, but Dongwoo supposes this is a special case. “Are Sunggyu and Woohyun—”

“Their Jaeger is down,” Dongwoo replies. “And I can’t reach them individually.”

Jiae sighs. “Should we send a team out to find the remains of Infinite Duty, then?”

“Yeah,” Dongwoo says, and the whole room falls into silence, all of them numbed. He registers another pair of Jaegers being sent out, one from Tokyo and one from Vladivostok, but doesn’t process it. Infinite Duty was down. 

His headset crackles, and Dongwoo immediately snaps out of his trance, checking transmissions, not wanting to believe what he sees. “Hello?”

“Mission control?” says a strained, hoarse voice on the other end. “It’s Kim Sunggyu.”

“Sunggyu?” Dongwoo asks. “Sunggyu, you’re okay?”

“I’m—” says Sunggyu’s voice. “I’m okay. There’s a lot of blood, though. And the Jaeger is destroyed. And you’re going to need to send someone out because—”

“Where are you?”

“We’re somewhere on the Japanese coast. There’s—two more Jaegers took the Kaiju out. It—the Jaeger started to self-destruct. We had to eject.”

“It’s okay,” Dongwoo says. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.” He sighs. “What about Woohyun? Is he okay?”

On the other end, Sunggyu laughs. “Of course,” he says. “I wouldn’t say I’m okay if Woohyun wasn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! i hope you had as much fun reading this as i did writing it!!
> 
> find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/loona_officiaI).


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